


Let's see

by Leyl_helen



Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Have fun reading this garbage you'll never get your time back ;-;, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Time Travel, all the sexualities!, drug mention, no I am not going to ship myself to them, okay i might ship myself but only for plot development, other drugs maybe who knows, questioning characters, relationships are a surprise here everybody, sexual content ahead, soft enjolras, thats just wrong they're like my kids, the greatest things in life, we will see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyl_helen/pseuds/Leyl_helen
Summary: This takes place two weeks laterIf you're still around, well that's just lovely. WARNING SMUT AHEAD. But no spoilers, am I right?Okay, so this chapter isn't going to be nearly as long as the last but I hope it suffices! I think I'm going to make all the chapters this long, but there will be plenty,  I hope, well it's mostly for my self indulgence.





	1. Chapter 1

  
"Hey Combeferre, is that you?"  
I called out my cat's name in the darkness.

I was starting to worry, you see, I just got back from watching a production of Les Mis with the college theatre club, when I unlocked the door to my house it wouldn't budge. I heard something rustle behind the door. Considering my cat always greeted me I assumed it was just him. As I made my way to the backyard I contemplated to myself: _It's hard living alone. I hope someone answers my roommate add. I'm sick of climbing through this window._

I got to my window, pushed it open and, with ease, I lifted myself up by muscle memory. I landed myself on my bed and decided to close my eyes, _just for a moment_. As I started to doze off I heard banging, movement, too much noise for a single cat to be making.

_But wait..._

I looked to to see Combeferre purring at my feet. Panic fills me.

_Damnit no, I am not going to be a victim._ I listened hard _._

_No voices._

Quietly, I only lit a candle to see in my room. I pulled my chair into the closet so I could reach for my, sharpened, katana. I gripped the handle and proceeded into the darkness of my hallway. I could still hear movement of furniture but nothing else. Slowly, still holding the blade at a ready position, I reached my hand far in front of me. I ran it along the left wall until I felt a switch. I let out a shaky breath and breathed in confidently when I flipped the switch.

I didn't know if I froze because I felt like I knew these men or because there was just too much intimidation in that many strange eyes glaring at me. One man, dressed in a fiery coat quickly pointed an old-timey pistol at me. He reached out and protectively pulled a stockier, scruffier, man with a green waistcoat behind him.

I always imagined death and ,honestly, I was ready to feel it. I shook off the morbid feeling and held my ground, the katana still held up high. The youthful blonde began shouting in French. At first, I thought it was Spanish but I quickly learned I had no response to his words.

"I don't speak French dude, how the hell are you supposed to rob me when I can't even understand you?"

The man, suddenly less frightened, quizzically studied me while the scruffier man gripped his shoulder as if he was maintaining his balance.

_Holy shit, this has got to be a dream. That can't be-_

"American, I see, well we are not here to rob you." At this point all the men in the room stopped moving furniture to absorb the conversation before them. "It's good to meet you mademoiselle. Hmm, if you could lower that rapier, thank you, I would be glad to inform you that we saw your household and I felt it would've been safest to lodge in to avoid the national guard. We were barricading the door and we hope that we are welcome."

I just blinked in disbelief and after a while a tension began building in my throat. Laughter erupted out of me but I quickly began to cough it away when the group of revolutionaries gawked at me like some sort of looney.

"I get it, so, who put you up to this?" I asked suspiciously.

"Madame, nobody but the flame in our stomachs." The man, who I assumed to be Enjolras was a good actor.

"Umm, this isn't funny anymore, by the way how did you get-" As I scanned the room I saw the damage that was done, "HOLY HELL! You broke my window for a joke?"

"I assure you, mademoiselle, this is no joke."

I dropped the katana on the nearby table and frustratedly stepped forward. "Get out of my house! I have to pay for that you know! OUT NOW." Before I could see who, two men grabbed my arms. My chest became tight and my instinct took over. I shut my eyes and began to flail around until I squirmed out of both men's grips. Despite the height I punched a bald man in the stomach making him drop to my level, allowing me to put him to sleep with one blow. Another black haired man rushed to his unconscious friends aid. Next I lunged at the supposed Enjolras, grabbing his pistol arm. The stockier man that was next to him, somehow, got behind me and pulled both of my arms before any real damage was inflicted.

I must of hit my face at some point because blood began to drip from my split lip onto my blue dress.

"What's wrong Patroclus?" I teased aggressively, "Making sure no harm comes to your dear Achilles?" I caught glimpse of Enjolras looking away frustratedly but shaking it off whilst walking towards me.

"Are you not with us citizen? You called out one of my men's names with memory. You know us, yet, you fight us." Enjolras retorts and I am struck by the few words.

"I called out my cats name you fool. And no one is named Combeferre here."

"I am, my name is Combeferre." A dark skinned man with glasses steps forward accusingly. "This woman is strange Enjolras, hysteric even. I don't think we should release her."

"Who the hell are you to talk, this is my fucking house."

"Such vulgarity from a youth, what kind of place were you raised from?" At this point the man holding me back spoke out.

"Are y'all being for real right now? You better be from 1800's France because if not I will literally kick every one of your asses." _Jesus, I never thought I would mock the people who have my life in their hands._.

"What do you mean, woman..." Enjolras spoke with an honesty that started to confuse me.

"Why are you dragging this joke for so long?"

"Enjolras!" A curly haired man with olive skin yelled out.

"Yes Courfeyrac?"

"I believe I found a calendar, it looks strange but it says that it is November... Two thousand and sixteen."

Enjolras turned back to face me, "Is this some sort of game or illusion?"

"Hey, look around, does this look like France? You walk outside and you'll see a mountain in the distance... this is Colorado, man, as in the United States of America."  
  
The worry began to become undeniable in Enjolras' eyes. "How do we know you're not some sort of..."

"What witch? You aren't really going there are you?"

"Enjolras, there's no such thing." The man holding me spoke once again.

"Thank you." I could only turn my head to address him.

"Well how do explain all of this?"

"Enjolras, I don't know, I just showed up. Now can you please let me go? I could help if I wasn't a prisoner."

"You put one of our men to sleep! You are not released that easily!"

"I've been through too much to just let some strange men grab me." I felt the man's grip loosen and I shook him off easily.

"I still don't trust you guys but considering you haven't tried anything horrible yet, I will trust you to put the furniture back where you found it and leave. This all better be done by the time I come back for a drink."

_I cannot fucking believe this_

I put on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. When I came back all the furniture was put back but I had eight men inspecting every element of my house. I saw the stockier man with curly dark hair began to drink my wine. I stomped over and, in unity with Enjolras, we said, "Grantaire, put the bottle down!"

In shock, I stood there with mouth agape. That moment was, somehow all the proof I needed.

"How did you know my name madame."

"Because I know you, I know all of you."

"Have you seen us at the rallies?" Courfeyrac suggested.

I only sat down in response and swiped away the bottle from Grantaire's hands. I began to drink in defeat of not being able to grasp the situation. "Why haven't you all left?"

Enjolras stepped forward, " I apologized mademoiselle but, where would we go?"

"You all really aren't kidding huh."

"No, mademoiselle."

I inspected each person closer: I noticed Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Grantaire were covered in wine stains and dust. As if they just threw wine bottles at the national guard. The room smelled of gunpowder, I assumed, I also smelled sweat and desperation. Not a trace of blood on any of them.

"Madame, could you maybe explain why all of us can remember death like a memory?" A strawberry blonde man with splashes of freckles spoke up kindly.

"Death?" I was baffled.

"I was shot by the guard. I yelled out 'Viva la France-"

I finished the quote, "Long live France... Long live the future... you must be Jean, you go by Jehan. You play the flute and you love botany."

Jehan stood, pale in the face unable the grasp what had just been spoken.

"Look this is going to sound absolutely insane but you all aren't real." I looked up at them still sipping away at the red wine. "I know you all are here now but you're only book characters."

"That's ridiculous." Grantaire sneered. I glared him down and put down the bottle. He looked a little scared for a moment but sighed in relief when I crossed the room to the bookshelf that Combeferre, Feuilly, and Jehan were inspecting to pull out the book. But I froze, unable to put them through existential dread. I proceeded to look out the broken window instead.

"Look, now is not the time. Now is the time to... to um... shit... sorry language..." I contemplated in the silence that was desperate for truth. "Okay so, you all promise you are who you say you are."

All of them nod, including the man I assumed to be Bossuet. He had a mark on his face that broke my heart. "Bossuet honey," he looked, shocked to be hearing the stranger that hit him to be so soft. I went over to the freezer and grabbed a ,towel wrapped, ice pack. "Put this on him Joly."

"How did you- never mind that..." he did as I asked. "How do you keep this so cold?"

"Oh no, so I should probably tell you about technology... Everybody follow me, you need to know all about flushing."

\---

My house, comfortably, holds three adults. After searching for 5 pillows and four large blankets there was enough room in the living room for all eight men to lodge themselves.

By the end of the night I managed to explain nearly everything modern that could be potentially dangerous to those not of this century. When all the men appeared asleep I went to grab my wine and go into the safety of a scorching bath. Tears rolled down my face as the warmth flowed down my throat. Sobs broke through my puffy red lips.

_Lylah, youve gone off the deep end, you never wanted to have kids and now you have 9, if this joke is real- who am I kidding, the way the looked at me: like kindergarteners learning for the first time. Combeferre and Feuilly taking notes in the back. These are the real deal. The original barricade boys. Damn._

I composed myself and changed into my lounging clothes again. I stepped outside and I'm padded on into the kitchen to put away the wine. Grantaire sat with a flask of fireball.

"You Americans do not lack in your liquor-making skills. It's extraordinary, but hardly worth staying alive for." Bitterly, he drank. I didn't stop him, he looked like he needed it.

Quietly, I sat down and kept drinking my wine. Out of habit I pulled my pipe out of a drawer and packed a bowl of (dare I say) weed to smoke myself. Grantaire looks longingly but still slightly confused.

"This is a glass pipe, it's used for marijuana. Do you know what that is?"

"I assume that's hemp, we aren't all clueless madame."

"Please, call me by my name Grantaire. I call you by yours.

"And what would that be again, mon Chou."

"First of all, it's Lylah, secondly, if you ever call me any variation of 'sweet' again-"

"Ah, so you know French."

"Barely, dude." I light the bowl and puff smoke.

"What is a dude?"

"Well, technically it's a "masculine term" but now a days women and men can call people what they want without being rude. That probably wasn't a good explanation. So, people can call whoever they want dude."

"Alright... dude."

"You got it R!" I was quietly enthusiastic.

"Okay, be honest, how do you know my nickname."

Dread swept over my ,already foggy, mind. "Please just wait to tell the others. Okay?" I looked over the the sleeping crew and scan for movement: Joly leaning on the couch next to Bossuet. Enjolras sat next to the fireplace, asleep against the wall. Combeferre and Courfeyrac sharing a pillow, _aw how cute_. Bahorel shared a pillow with Jehan and the others were hidden behind the second couch.

_No ones awake._

I tiptoe to the book shelf and pull out Les Miserables. I read the description on the back.

"Okay, well what does this Valjean fellow have anything to do with us?l

"You're apart of this story."

"Why would he author just ramble about people who aren't involved."

"You'll be surprised at what Victor Hugo rambles on about."

I turn to the page about Grantaire and begin to read: "Among all these glowing hearts and thoroughly convinced minds, there was one sceptic. How came he there? By juxtaposition. This sceptic's name was Grantaire, and he was in the habit of signing himself with this rebus: R. Grantaire was a man who took good care not to believe in anything." Reading on, I occasionally glanced up to his half-gawk expression, the skeptic, obviously being thrown for a loop. 

He began to snicker at his own description. "This, Monsieur Hugo, knows me well."

For the first time in the night I giggle, "Well he made you, of course he does."

"What else does it say... about, well."

"Enjolras?"

His eyes widened a bit, "well and the others, you know."

"Grantaire... I eon't let the others know but, there's a whole section describing how you feel about Enjolras."

"What? Of what importance is that?"

"You're telling me R... it's kind of a topic of debate."

"What does that mean?"

"Here, I'll just read it: However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors..." I read on and, after, met his gaze again... the skeptic had no explanation 

"If you want, you can read about Enjolras on your own."

"That would be best." And so he did, smiling to himself at the character development. "Complementary colours alright... he doesn't seem to come out and say."

"Well that was a controversial subject. If you must keep it to yourself though, I understand. Just know that these times, though they are still some what discriminatory, you can be honest about who you are." I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He grumbled to himself and sank in his seat. "I don't know what you mean, and anyways, it doesn't pertain to me nor concern me. This is just a bunch of over-exaggerations..."

"Whatever you say, Patroclus."

He narrowed his eyes at me and I did nothing but shrug and continued drinking myself out of this dream.

"So did you cry about everything you needed to." Though it sounded like a slam, I met my eyes to a pair of genuine green ones.

"Trying to get me back huh." I swept it off but Grantaire persisted.

"This is a lot to take in. I'd suggest you stay honest."

"It's just... I can't comprehend." This on top of everything else: An ex that won't leave me alone, the only person I ever loved just fucked me and moved on, breaking my heart, constantly working, studying, no time for the things I truly love... Depression maybe?

"It seems that that is a regular habit." He eyed me for a response as he drank his fireball. I traded him liquors and continued.

"It's not everyday a bunch of revolutionaries get dumped on me." I drank without hesitation, feeling the cinnamon burn down my throat.

"I just wonder, if you're so okay, why you have so many choices of drink. Anyways, you won't have to worry about us much longer. You want us out right?"

"Well yeah, before I knew..."

"We already decided when you were getting blankets. We are too much of a burden."

"Grantaire, no... It's snowing as we speak. I can't leave you all on your own."

"Why do we matter so much to you?"

"Okay, it's dumb but, I love everyone here like my own family."

"But why, we aren't even real."

"Because, I actually care about everyone I get to know, even more than myself. And I know all of you too much to let you all fend for yourselves."

"You remind me of myself." he smiled sadly.

"That almost doesn't surprise me."

"It's a disease of the mind, it seemed you didn't care much about death."

"I just have a short temper because I'm a short person." I tried joking off the subject.

"I have no room to talk my friend, excuse me, my dude."

I raised my flask to his bottle of wine. "Let me prove to you all, that I will be worthy to your cause. If you could die by your love's side then I can help!" Grantaire hastily hushed me. "Of course I mean fraternity my dude."

"Of course." R smirked.

"I need sleep. Do you think I can trust you with your friends in my house?" I winked playfully.

"It would be an honor mademoiselle, Lylah."

"Thank you, goodnight."

\---

"Uuuughhhgahh." The pain in my head beat like an angry drum. I found a glass of water I set for myself the night before. I went to the bathroom and got ready for the day. As I showered I vaguely remembered snippets of a dream.

\---

I stayed in my lounging clothes and went to the kitchen. Shock hit me...

_Is is really only 6:45? Oh well, coffee..._  
  
I lazily made the coffee and gazed beyond the bar.... _oh shit._

The boys were still fast asleep, barely lit by the blue cast from outside. The fire still burned, the only movement was the snow gently floated down. R found a place beside Enjolras, against the wall, not touching him.

I _really need to help them. This isn't a dream._

I poured myself black coffee into a thermace, I dressed readily for the cold, and I grabbed my wallet. Without looking back I began to walk to the supermarket, due to the roads being too snowy. When I arrived, thankfully the manager was openning the store. I grabbed everything I knew how to cook as quickly as I could. I winced at the price of a weeks worth of food for eight people.

_C'mon, get going Lylah, they must be famished. Guess you're gunna have to leave your mug just to carry this shit back._

\---

I opened the front door as quietly as I could, sore in my arms from the weight I just carried. Silently, I made trips back and forth from the door to get the groceries without causing a stir. Unfortunately, with my last load of groceries, Enjolras stands groggily in the kitchen.

"Ah, Monsieur Enjolras, would you like some French roast coffee. It's my favorite."

"That would be lovely."

I poured him the remaining contents of the earlier pot. After handing it to him I got to work. I put all the groceries away, made another pot of coffee, and turned on the stove. Enjolras stared, distrusting of the products.

"Is this safe to eat?"

"Safer to eat than what you had in The 1800's before the pure food and drug act established by the PDFA in the 1900's."

He blushed, "you know so much."

"Yeah random facts that I vaguely remember from high school, the worst years of everyone's life. You'll learn, there's lots of access to the information out there and I will make sure all of you are informed. But for now I'm making chorizo burritos."

"But why?"

"I'm sure you all are starving."

"I mean why."

"Enjolras. Let me just help you. You all have gone through so much and I wasn't a wonderful host earlier."

"You don't need to help us." He was defiant.

"Enjolras, we will discuss this over breakfast. Now please make sure the group is okay and hand out coffee to everybody, okay? I'm sorry to be bossy I just want to make sure you all are awake and alert."

He only nodded.

_Wow the great and eloquent Enjolras, shot down by some twenty-something. Maybe I am a good parent._  
I looked over at him stirring the group.  
_Or not, shit, I don't even have a game plan._

I focused on making the meat perfectly, scrambling the eggs, re-frying the beans, toasting the tortillas until I had eight meals made ready with a glass of cold water.

"Okay everybody have a seat, make sure to drink your water."

"What is this Mademoiselle?" The red haired Feuilly spoke up.

"Thank you for asking, so, first things first: I'm sorry for my rudeness last night. I made this meal to honor my guests, yes I will take a bite to prove that I didn't poison it-"

"We trust you, we just want to know what food this is." Courfeyrac spoke this time.

"Right this is pork meat, fried in a pan with various spices and flavorings, made with scrambled eggs, and refried beans. It's a dish my mother would always make. It's cheap but hardy. It's of a Mexican culture-"

By this time the entirety of the group mauled at their burritos.

_It's a good thing I made two for each man._

I sat on the couch next to the table, due to there being no room, and sipped my coffee. Enjolras was the first to break the feasting silence. "So what do you have in mind for us Lylah."

"Well, I didn't think last night happened and I sort of drank myself to sleep."

Enjolras crossed his arms in discontent.

"I'm sorry Enjolras, this doesn't exactly happen often."

Grantaire spoke at this, "Enjolras, she has already done so much, fed all eight of us without even serving herself, spent her money, her lodgings, don't you think-"

"I'm sorry, all of you, I'm just anxious for a solution." The leader looked away, discouraged.

"Wait a minute, I got something!" I jumped up, spilling my coffee slightly. "I have the next three days off and I think I can figure this out in less than one!" The group watched as I jumped up and ran to my room for my poetry journal. I came back and plopped myself down on the couch as the others looked and murmured amoungst themselves.

Step 1: The basics  
-Work on language, slangs, meanings, innuendos.  
-talk about advancements in human kind.  
-the internet is a subject of its own  
-media, news, television, and phones

Step 2  
-Work individually with the boys and see what they are interested in and what they might excel at in modern day.  
-how are we going to to make money? Eh, I'll figure it out.  
-buy lots of books that could begin to explain this place.  
-HISTORY LESSONS FUCK... I'm not a teacher. Let's try.  
-lodging, maybe the attic? It's pretty spacey.

Step 3  
-Take two people out at a time on a daily basis.

\---  
Grantaire came over as I finished up the rest of the plan.

"What's up Grantaire?"

"Eeerm, I believe the roof."

"Oh no, that's a term we use, what's up means 'what's happening'."

"Ah, right. Well we stacked all the dishes a few hours ago, we didn't want to disturb you. Also I was wondering if you could show me how to roll one of those umm-"

"Burritos." I got up and walked to the kitchen. Turning the stove back on I heated the rest of the ingredients on a plate in the microwave.

"That's still going to take a while." He looked intimidated. 

"Trust me, even microwaves can confuse me."

After the tortilla was toasted I gave him instruction with a separate tortilla. After three attempts he finally had a messy, but edible, burrito.

"Well, it doesn't look nice but, here." He handed the plate to me.

Maybe it was the hangover, or just me in general, but when somebody offers a genuinely nice gesture on a tough day, I begin to well up.

"Did I upset you Lylah?"

"Ah, no of course not Grantaire, thank you." I stifle the cry by stuffing my face right then and there. "Wow, this is good." I turn around and eight men stand behind me and bow their heads all saying 'Merci'.

_FUCK don't CRy._

"It was nothing, does this mean you'll stay and trust me?"

"If anything we are the burden." Enjolras stepped forward almost apologetically.

"If you all were a burden, I wouldn't have you here." I bit into my food before any emotion over came me. "Meet me in the living room in fifteen ish minutes." I said with a cheek of food.

I felt alive, once more, invigorated and warm. I stood before the group, pulled out my journal and started. "First on our agenda, do you have any questions that are pressing you that don't have to do with how you got here? Something about adapting to life."

I chose the first hand that raised, "L'Aigle, may I call you Bossuet?"

"Of course, madamoiselle Lylah."

_It's so fucking weird to hear my name like that._

"What's your question bud?"

"Well, I don't mean to be rude but what kind trousers are those?"

"So, these are jeans, ummm off the top of my head, Levi Strauss invented them with some Mr. Davis guy in the late 1800's for factory men and other manual workmen. Women started wearing pants like in the 1950s."

"Are all painted that way?"

"No, these are just my painting pants." Another hand shot up, "Feuilly?"

"I'd love to cut down the process and help to buy books about this world. And, while you work we can lecture ourselves."

"Oh man, that would be fantastic Feuilly. It'll be a lot but I know you all can do it." A third hand shoots up, "Bahorel?"

"Is the government worthy of being overthrown."

_Of course Bahorel would go there._

"Considering recent events, I think so. But the issues are a bit different from what y'all might be used to. We will go over it in our studies. Yes, Jehan?"

"Why do you have that gold-metal substance in your face. Are you in pain?"

I laughed, caught off guard, "Oh, Jehan, these are called piercings, in which they pierce your skin for aesthetics. I got two."

"Does that explain the birds on your collar bones?" Jehan was genuinely shocked but still interested.

"This is a tattoo, made for the same purpose. It's kind of a common thing too."

"How are we going to dress appropriately at a good price?" Combeferre stood, concerned.

"Thrift shopping, but we will work up to that." I smiled vibrantly.

\---

The time was noon when we began and 8 pm by the time I felt I covered pretty much everything on technical advancement.

"Any finishing questions before I start on dinner, we ran pretty late?"

Enjolras spoke out, "so just to be clear, 'normal' is the suggestion for most loads."

"I assume, I've gotten this far in my life using normal."

I wasn't trying to be rude, but the house smelled exactly how you'd expect. Like a bunch of sweaty, gunpowder covered, revolutionaries that are in deep need of a shower.

"Alright, I hate to be rude but we need to wash all of your clothes while you all take a shower. So, you all remember how to turn on the hot or cold water."

All nod to me.

"Perfect, so this is how it goes: there's two restrooms, to cut down on water, two people per shower, we have plenty of towels so you might just have to wear those while you wait for your clothes."

The group shot eachother troublesome glances.

"Oh c'mon, you all died brave deaths. Are you really afraid about compromising your masculinity? I'm not asking you to make love to one another."

The group shifted uncomfortably, "sorry, too vulgar, it's a modern thing... here I'll pair you all off.  
Feuilly- Bahorel  
Bossuet- Joly  
You four first then,  
Enjolras- Combeferre  
Courfeyrac- Jehan  
After the first group  
Grantaire, You're lucky you get one all to yourself. Sound good?"

It was 9:30 when I finally started dinner while the boys did their own laundry and showers. _I'm so proud of them_. Enjolras stepped over, his serious defaulted demeanor intimidating.

"What do you need dear, Enjolras?" I tried to sound sweet so he would cut the act.

"I don't mean to bother you madame, but would you like help with setting the table?"

"That would be great, you can even help me cook if you want."

He smiled and nodded and I showed him where everything is.

"Can I do anything to help?" Jehan, so soft spoken, suggested to me.

"Jehan, if you could grab this bottle of soap and wash the dishes, here, like this."

Before I knew it, everyone started doing their parts: Joly and Feuilly lied out the dry clothes for those still in the shower, Bahorel worked on the laundry in the machines while Bossuet made sure everyone showering was okay.

\---

  
"Dinner tonight, another Mexican dish, just plain carne asada, grilled beef, beans from this morning and rice."

They dug in.

"Wow did you also learn this from your mother?" Enjolras spoke gleefully.

"Yes I did actually!"

Jehan talked cheerfully, "You must love visiting your parents, for this food is spectacular."

"She made it better..." I smiled, sadly, as I dug into my food on the kitchen bar.

\---

When all the men went to sleep I stayed up, drinking a fresh bottle of wine. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought about memories with my mother and father.

"Would you mind sharing mon chou ?"

"Grantaire..." I quickly swiped the tears away and toughened up.

"I couldn't help it."

"Here, take a load off."

Once again, out of habit, I pull out my pipe.

"How much do you want to forget? You shouldn't do this to yourself."

"Marijuana is nowhere near as bad as alcohol. I'm sorry, but you're going to hear a lot of my liberal views that all of you might not even be okay with. Who knows?"

"At least drop one for tonight."

"Not in your most alcoholic induced dreams."

I continued and we shared a comfortable silence. Then a knock came at the door. The man before me mirrored a look of dread and wide eyed panic. The group, now awake, looked to me for answers, Enjolras held the pistol at his side. Half whispering, I scold him and take a deep breath when I look through the peephole.

"Oh thank fuck." I open the door to a vibrant girl with a blonde pixie cut.

"Lylah! You smell like alcohol, you better not drink yourself to death babe."

"Don't worry about it Suzie, just taking the edge off."

"Well, I'm sorry I just-" she pulled me into a long kiss that made me forget about the guests.

_Oh yeah, I forgot how much I love kissing this girl._

We continued for an, unbroken, minute before I pulled away in realization.

"Oh Suzie, I have guests."

She looked into the dimly lit house filled with half panicked revolutionaries. "Oh my!! I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't, they um, needed a place to stay."

"Hello, we will all have to formally meet someday!" She waved enthusiastically and the group responded with awkward waves.

She speaks lower to me, "Why are they dressed like they just came from the Les Miserable performance?"

"Because they are, I got to know them all in college, you know, it was too snowy for any of them to drive far."

"Well where are their cars?"

"Parked along the street." I gestured to the street.

"Who broke the window?"

"I did, you'd be surprised how lit I get with the revolutionaries!" I laughed playfully. "It was hard to cover it with trash bags without it looking trashy." I giggled at my own pun.

"Eh, happens, well I just wanted to visit, see if you were still alive. I'll catch ya later babe."

We exchanged a quick kiss and she departed. I leaned on the door, half panicking still.

"Just rest everyone, just a good friend."

"Don't worry, we won't spread the word." Enjolras ensured me with a clasp on a hand on my shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever relations you have with her will be kept safe in secrecy."

The look of offense in his face made me stop laughing.

"Alright, quick history lesson to ponder on: LGBTQ... Combeferre take notes please," he does as he is told. " 'L', lesbian- woman and woman  
G-gay like 'happy'- man and man  
Bi-sexual- preferences for both men and women  
'T' for transsexual- for those who experience body dysmorphia, in which a man is born a male but their GENDER is female. They call it trans because they need to transition. Doctors have the capability to do that through surgery and hormone treatments. Not everyone does but the option is there.  
'Q' is either questioning or queer which is an umbrella term for lots of other sexual orientations. Though, unless someone identifies with the word 'queer' DON'T USE IT. It was a term that we took back from those who discriminated us but not all the community likes it." They were absorbing the information but not quite comprehending.

Jehan raised his hand, politely, "So, everybody is accepting."

"Not exactly. Look, I know this is long winded but I understand why you all may not be open to these ideas. You might say we just made it up but... it's who we are, but if any of you can't accept that, well just don't hurt any of us..." my lips started to quiver but I shook it off and maintained my best speech stance. "I trust you all won't but it's just hard in these trying times. With the president and... well that's a different story. But, if you can't accept us, then you don't accept me, a person that will still serve you regardless of your ideals."

Grantaire finally spoke out for the first time that night, bottle in hand. "I think you don't have as much faith as you say."

"I do."

"You don't madame. Because of you did you wouldn't just assume we would lash out against these people. That's exactly what this group stood against, oppression of the discriminated."

I stood, unable to make words, and looked to see Enjolras the same. "I-I am so sorry I'm just... passionate about this cause and from all the progress we've made with civil rights, poverty, lgbtq, women's rights... it all seems to be regressing once more because of who's brought about these views."

"Show us." Feuilly was desperate for truth.

"Okay, the reason I haven't turned on this Television was because I'm afraid you'll think you died in vain. But you didn't, we made progress. Even adults speak of revolution, it's not just the youth." 

I flip on the T.V. And they are frightened at first but I settle them down, explaining that this is a form of mass media, all that's going on transported to an electric box.

We flipped through various channels, we all got comfortable, I would get up occasionally to brew coffee. We must of stayed up to seven in the morning, discussing current social issues, explaining the electoral college, telling about culture and poverty on top of systematic racism and sexism. I come to find that all their view points and passions don't falter, they want nothing but to bring freedom to the people, regardless of the times.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place two weeks later  
> If you're still around, well that's just lovely. WARNING SMUT AHEAD. But no spoilers, am I right?  
> Okay, so this chapter isn't going to be nearly as long as the last but I hope it suffices! I think I'm going to make all the chapters this long, but there will be plenty, I hope, well it's mostly for my self indulgence.

"Madam— I-I mean, Lylah?"

 

I looked up to see Jehan, looking down at his twiddling fingers from the back porch door. "How ya doing? Would you like to come out?"

 

Jehan smiled and sat next to me, motioning to give him a cigarette. I handed it to him and he struggled, but managed to light his own stoge.

 

"What's on your mind Jehan?"

 

"Well, I feel that I'm questioning, things." He looked down, slightly ashamed.

 

"You can talk to me about anything, babe." I set a reassuring hand on his knee.

 

"You know when you were talking to us about L.B.G.T.Q?"

 

"L.G., and yes I do..."

 

"I feel like I'm questioning, my sex." His hands are now slightly shaking.

 

"Sometimes I like my own clothes, but I feel so comfortable in yours and—and dresses."

 

"Jehan, it doesn't matter who you are, don't ever think we would think any less of you. Whether you're he, she, they, or any other variation." I squeezed my grip to assure my statement.

 

He looked up with bright green eyes, "I like they."

 

"So be it."

 

The wind began to pick up, swirling the crystals amongst the snow. The chill sent us inside to the comforting sight of the revolutionaries: Enjolras reading a book on American politics, Feuilly lecturing Enj on systematic racism, Grantaire, slightly high, scribbling in the notebook I gave him. Bossuet and Joly next to the fire, reading world and American history with the cat curled in Joly's lap. How I got all these books? Stole them individually from the local libraries, the ultimate sin, but I was desperate.

\------------------------

 

"I don't know, I just don't know how to approach this respectfully." Courfeyrac complains from the window, doing more sulking than cleaning of the attic.

 

Bahorel sighs, "And I thought Pontmercy was bad. I almost wish I could hear him spouting his passions once more."

 

"We might as well become accustomed to this age, if we couldn't admit to ourselves who we are how are we supposed to help those oppressed... Hm, Courfeyrac?" Combeferre stops arranging their modern clothing.

 

"And if he sees me any differently?" Courfeyrac looked ready to pull his brown locks out.

 

"Then he's not worth the trouble, and you and I know our group. They will accept you." Combeferre states, plainly.

 

"What if—"

 

"Courf', I'm asexual, the kind that prefers romantics, rather than physical, sexual, desire. Now, do you see me differently?"

 

Courfeyrac is stunned, 'Well, no, but, ever? You don't need it?"

 

"Obviously, not as much as you." Bahorel snorts at Combeferre's comment and is elbowed in the side by the centre.

 

"Agh— you're not the only one with such affliction, at least you aren't 150 years or more older than them." Combeferre and Courfeyrac look at him in amazement. "What, Am I the only one?"

 

"Well, besides that point, we believe in you Courf' just don't overthink it too much, okay?

 

Courf' sighs, "Alright, you are a the guide, afterall." 

\---------------------------------

 

"Grantaire, you haven't been out for a while, why don't you come with me and Jehan to the thrift shop?"

 

He looks up from his sketchbook, now bitterly sober. "I suppose even dogs need activity."

 

I pull back a bit, "Oh, rough day 'Aire?"

 

Enjolras scoffs a bit and jeers Grantaire on, "Rough day? I'm sure those scribbles have cramped your hand plenty, eh?"

 

_Oh shit, this doesn't look good._

 

Grantaire stands tiredly, "Shouldn't you keep studying, _schoolboy_."

 

Enjolras rises from his chair like a sea monster from the depths. Relentless. "At least me and the schoolboys actually worked to adjust to this world. We are standing up to live and fight once more, and what do you do? At least a dog makes a better companion."

 

_Jesus Enj..._

 

Grantaire stands nearly toe to toe with the taller man, hurt flooding his eyes. "Already quick to lead your men to their deaths once again, eh?"

 

Enjolras is the picture of rage, "You BASTARD." He shoves the dark haired man, only enough to hurt his feelings further.

 

I quickly interject before the argument escalated once more. "HEY HEY HEY," Feuilly looks shocked that I would even consider getting in between them; Joly and Bossuet mimic his expression, "Enjolras, is this any way to treat somebody who died, not only for you but with you and your failed revolution? They don't even call it a revolution, it was a rebellion at most, you might of gotten a lot done but the June rebellion is usually easily forgotten." Though that wasn't entirely true, I thought it would be fair to take a jab at Enjolras' ego, just to make up for Grantaire's emotions. 

 

Grantaire huffed a laugh that he retracted when I turned around to glare at him. _You maybe my favourite character, but I have to be fair with the scolding._  "And you, stop moping and get your act together. You're still with this family and we're all just moody because we haven't gotten out enough. So both of you quit the playground antics, I'm not your mother."

 

Both Enjolras and Grantaire only gaze at one another disappointingly and return to their places.

 

"Has anyone seen Jehan?"

 

Feuilly answers timidly, "I think I saw him go into the bedroom."

 

I go down the hall and the cat leads the way; Combeferre demands _in_ and pushes the door open by himself while I follow behind. "Hey Jehan, would you—Oh GOd It'S CAnOn! SOrry!" I slam the door with a bit too much fervor and stare blankly at the door, struck by the sensation to laugh, squeal, or piss myself. Enjolras speaks behind me, making my heart dive up my throat.

 

"Did I hear something about a cannon?"

 

"JEESUS ENjolras, don't fucking sneak up on me again." with that, I leave a very confused Enjolras alone in the hall.

 

\----------------------------------

 

"Jehan, may we talk?" Courfeyrac stood, apprehensively, at the bedroom door.

 

"Of course," Jehan's voice was weary but soft. Courfeyrac stepped in, closing, but not letting the door click, closed; he breathed deeply and cut to the point. "Jehan, at the barricades, I—I admired your comradery and the sheer bravery you showed against the national guard. I can't even begin to elaborate... or exemplify how...erm"

 

Jehan stands up, stepping closer, making Courfeyrac's eyes widen. "How... How, what Courf'?"

 

"Jehan, I've to admire you as a brother— I-I meant as a partner. Not like a partner, but a person I could rely on for the rest of my days, and..."

 

"I don't think I know what you're trying to get at Courf'."

 

"Well, erm— uh— this is— this is so much simpler with women..." Jehan blinked, a bit taken aback by the comment. Were they not as feminine as the beautiful man, before them, wanted them to be? 

 

"What's simpler Courfeyrac?" Jehan's fluttering eyes were just too much. Courfeyrac began to contemplate just running away but he started to change the subject instead. But Jehan didn't wait for another word, Courfeyrac could hardly react to their mouth on his. The heat between them were finally combined in a flurry of lust and Jehan's vanilla body spray. Courf's eyes rolled back at the impact of Jehan's soft lips, their scent intoxicating him, their lips so strong despite the tenderness. The poet ran their slim fingers through the others curly hair, skillfully scratching circular patterns that send chills down through his body. He finally worked up the courage to grab Jehan's sides, squeezing, feeling, slowly moving down to their ass. Jehan moans at the man's gentle squeeze. They had to catch their breath often and when they did their eyes were locked and each breath was in unison. Eventually, rolling over the covers turned into rolling under them, they stripped one another of everything. Courfeyrac went down on them first, gently sucking, caressing, trying everything for the first time. Courfeyrac took them in his mouth, slowly prodding then swirling his tongue around the tip. Jehan inhaled sharply at the sensation and mewled a sound that Courf' could only describe as astounding.

 

They were both timid but worked up, and the two indulged as they explored new territory. Jehan loved to nibble at his neck, sucking, leaving trails of blossoming lilacs. Courfeyrac rambled lyrics that the poet could only describe as, euphoric. Jehan caught sight of the coconut oil on a desk that I had mentioned once: _Oh, this? That's coconut oil, you can use it for pretty much anything uh: Your hair, skin, sensitive areas, cooking, baking, and umm, sex. Just for your knowledge... Okay moving on._

 

Jehan smiles to themself and grabs the jar, scooping out just a bit of the solidified contents. They rubbed it onto Courfeyrac's cock, and after he made a deep moan, he began to open up Jehan with one, two, three fingers, and eventually himself. They eased into each other, moaning into one another's mouths. They savored each sensation as they made love until both of them reached their climax. Jehan came last, exclaiming a hoarse cry that was quickly muffled by Courf's hand. They smiled lightly and Courfeyrac rested his head on Jehan's chest, both were breathless, and unable to move.

 

"Jehan, I— I don't know what to say..." They just smiled and pet the other man's head, when he noticed that the cat opened the door, "Courf' you didn't close the—"

 

Both of them were stunned through my ramblings and at the door that just slammed, they just looked back at one another, widen of eyes.

 

"I think I must go Courfeyrac."

 

Courf' only pursed his lips and nodded, understandingly. 

   


_____________________________________

 

It was my third one of the day and it wasn't even 12 pm. _But those boys will probably kill me before these stogies do._

After the confrontation and the little romantic episode in the spare bedroom, I needed to slow down and just gather my thoughts. _I didn't realize how canon they all are: Enjolras is utterly oblivious to hurting Grantaire, Grantaire has no idea how to approach the whole coup de foudre thing, he only resorts to his old habits which Enjolras apparently doesn't stand for anymore. I Just wonder why Enj is so catty right now... Oh my, okay I've read enough fanfiction to see where this is going. But, still, if Courf' and Jehan had the courage to fall into eachother's sweet embrace, why wouldn't Enjolras. I hope he's not trying to pretend that earthly things don't seduce him. Or maybe he's ace, maybe he feels weak as a chief and he's just overcompensating for the loss._ Feuilly stepped outside, interrupting my thoughts.

 

"Feuilly, sorry, I'm probably an awful influence..."

 

"No worries, I understand, Enjolras and Grantaire are never like that."

 

"Never, you say?" He nods to himself.

 

"Well, they were bad once..."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes, it was the night before the barricades, Grantaire mocked that our lives meant "nothing at all" and Enjolras lashed out at him. I don't remember what they said because they talked among themselves but Grantaire was bitter, and I think I saw him fall into Enjolras' embrace."

 

_Huh, I don't remember reading that but I'm strongly fighting the urge to fan girl because now is not the time._

 

"Feuilly, could I get your opinion on their relationship."

 

"Without looking behind me I know that both of them are probably glaring up from their work every now and then. And they glare at each other, not because they're angry, but because they have all the reason to."

 

"What are you implying?" I wasn't surprised to see the look of amusement on the man's face.

 

"Well, call me mad but I believe that, according to old English terms, they're pining for each other. Those two are more stubborn than the entire national guard." My surprise was not from the news but the from a person who has dealt with these man, first hand, for months, years maybe?

 

"So, when they argue they just look for any reason to fight. Doesn't surprise me."

 

"Something scratches at my mind, however. Why are they so hostile this time around?"

 

"Tension seems like the issue, let's see if they kill each other before they realize they love each other."

 

"I worry for R, I feel that Enjolras has never felt anything for anyone other than—"

 

"Patria, the homeland, France."

 

"Your knowledge is vast, how do you explain it." Feuilly's eyes narrowed.

 

I tense at his lack of trust, "I don't think there's been a day he hasn't mentioned France."

 

"I don't think he's called it _that_ in front of you, dear."

 

_Should I just confide in them already? No, tonight that'll be better._

 

R and Jehan were at the door, beaming, before I could reply to Feuilly. Jehan had the widest smile on his face and Grantaire looked genuinely amused by the situation that had previously unfolded.

 

"Alright, well, let's get going you've made us wait long enough." Jehan was still beaming and almost eager to tell me the details, even though I probably already got my fill.

 

"We'll talk about it later friend." I smiled clasping a hand on his shoulder, which was he responded to with a tight nod.

 

_________________________________

 

The whole way there Jehan rode shotgun blaring a fun, and awful, pop song on the radio, just dancing and laughing. Grantaire almost couldn't handle such an outburst of soul and the poet beautifully described how the sunlight hit his eyes and the connection they had. I was so proud of them, Jehan managed to step up and take initiative and it all turned out okay in the end.

Shopping was fun, they chose their own outfits and I helped them with styling, thankfully Grantaire had a good time. They were both absorbed in the knick knack section, and I took note of what they were attracted to. Meanwhile, back at home Feuilly finally stood up from their studies and decided to study the book shelf in my room. In fear of the boys finding the brick I had put it there, and there stood Feuilly running a light index finger along the titles.

"Hmph, of all the American titles here is a French one..." He inspects the back cover, reading the description skeptically. "... _Les Misérables_ ranks among the greatest novels of all time. In it, Victor Hugo takes readers deep into the Parisian underworld, immerses them in a battle between good and evil, and carries them to the barricades during the uprising of—". He drops the book before reading the date out loud. He gawked at the brick at his feet, it was a while before he could regain control of his thoughts.

"ENJOLRAS, COME IN HERE"


End file.
